The Fullmetal Paradox
by Dread Pirate Rinja
Summary: Upon finding his way home after three years in Germany, Ed realizes that he might be able to change everything. But as with all trades, gain does not come without sacrifice close on its heels. Post first anime. Hiatus.
1. Prelude

_Warnings: anime spoilers, plenty of language, later violence and lots of angst._

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_Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Hiroaki Arakawa and all companies that hold license to its title. Characters picked on and plots shamelessly twisted without permission, but sadly, I don't make money off of my stupid plot bunnies._

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**The Fullmetal Paradox**  
_Fullmetal Alchemist_

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**Prelude**

_If you could go back in time to change one thing, just one thing in your life… what would you change?_

_But had I known that that one thing could change _every_thing, I don't know now if I would have done it. I suppose I don't have much of a choice now, really, but… if I had known that I would sacrifice everything I'd learned in those years with my brother, searching for any method that would enable us to get our original bodies back, then…_

_Perhaps I wouldn't have chosen this path, even if we never would have needed to set such a goal. At least _we _would have lived._

* * *

The world seemed so much fuzzier with the lack of sleep. The dim lamp flickering over the paper-cluttered desk cast a hazy glow across the blurred words the blond-haired eighteen-year-old teen was trying so desperately to read. He squinted, brushing stray bangs from his face and adjusting wire-rimmed spectacles over his scrunched nose in a vain effort to read the text with more ease, and even tried keeping metal digits pressed under the line of interest in the book as he wrote down a few numbers on the working scratch paper at his left. Sighing, he removed his glasses with his prosthetic hand and rubbed at closed eyes with his other. As if in afterthought, he glanced out the window and seemed surprised to find it so dark.

"Damn," he muttered, taking a quick scowl at his watch before getting back to writing. "Got late on me too quickly again. Better hurry and finish this before the old man comes to get me."

As if on cue, a knock at the door startled the young man, causing him to draw a sharp line across the calculations on the page. With a sharp curse, he tried to quickly erase the line.

"Edward? Edward, it's late… The librarian wanted to lock up earlier tonight, I think."

"I _know_!" he snapped back, finally erasing the line. "Give me two minutes, and I'll be right there."

"I'll be waiting in the car downstairs. Don't take too long, or you're walking," came the warning.

Ed snorted disdainfully in reply as heavy footsteps retreated away from the closed door. "Like I haven't walked the whole half-mile home before," he groused as he looked back down at his work…

… and dropped his pencil with wide eyes when he saw what he'd written.

"Oh. My. God…"

The air in the room suddenly wasn't enough to fill his lungs – he couldn't breathe enough to keep the edges of his vision from blackening. The last thing he remembered was the floor rushing up at his face at an alarming rate, but he oddly didn't care.

* * *

_It should have been impossible, but it wasn't. No, it wasn't possible. It was crazy – no, Insane. _I-n-s-a-n-e. _Capital 'I' for sure. Oh god, how didn't I see that sooner? Why couldn't I have seen it then? I was a _scientist_ there, damn it! My job was to examine _all _possibilities before making a decision._

_I was blind. And because I was blind, I didn't see the path that my actions would take me. No, that wasn't me – that was… someone that I thought died a long time ago._

_Me. No, and yes. But not for long._

_Because what I became – no, what _he _became – was not destined to happen._

_Words of wisdom, from the unwise, for the unwise. Never mess with Fate. Oh, and hindsight is always twenty-twenty._

_Damn it._

* * *

Hohenheim gently pressed a cloth bag filled with ice into his son's shaking hands, a worried frown creasing his forehead. Ed, lounging on a couch, pressed it against his forehead with a pained groan, uncharacteristically ignoring his father's large hand brushing long strands of unbound golden hair away from his face.

"You alright?" the elder man asked quietly.

Ed grunted. "What do you think?"

Hohenheim shifted a bit, used to his son's hard edge against him after several years of putting up with it, but still none too pleased by it. "I guess not quite."

"You know, if you'd discovered something like that, how would you react?" the boy snapped. "No, wait, don't answer that. Please don't."

"You said you found it," Hohenheim continued. "You checked your calculations yet? Are you sure? If what you're saying is true, then –"

"I know!" Ed shouted, slamming the ice bag down on the coffee table next to the couch. He took a deep breath. Calmer, "Damn it, old man… I _know._"

"When?"

"Why are you so anxious to know?" Ed glared at his father, but couldn't hold the expression when he saw a hint of hurt flicker in the man's eyes. He sighed. "As soon as I can tie up a few loose ends here. It's been, what, how many years now? Four?"

"Three," Hohenheim corrected quietly.

"Okay then, three. Long enough for me to start settling down here somewhat…"

An unreadable emotion flickered across his father's face, and Ed frowned.

"What's the look for?"

Hohenheim managed a fake smile. "Ah, nothing. Here, you should keep that on your head until the headache goes away, and then we'll discuss this when you're feeling up to it."

Ed opened his mouth to say that he was _just damn fine_, and that he wanted to discuss this now, but his father was already at the door. Instead, he snorted derisively once his father shut the door, and silently cursed his decision to study physics in this world beyond the cursed Gate. What he wouldn't give for alchemy, and to find another way around this theory…

_It's all your fault, you stupid old man. _He scowled. _No… it's my own fault, too. If only I had never tried to transmute Mom – and hadn't dragged Al into it…_

_If only…_

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_**.end prelude.**_

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_Just so I make this infinitely clear right away, I will be using the **anime canon **(but trust me, I have ideas for manga canon stories), and will pointedly be ignoring the movie (which I have not yet seen). So in that sense, this is a divergence or AU fic, or whatever you wish to label it. At any rate, it is post-series in terms of the anime._

_As for the title, I am taking artistic liberties with a time-traveling theory called "the Grandfather Paradox" by many physicists. Feel free to look it up on Google; I've done a teensy bit of my own research on it and will be using Carl Sagan's short explanation of it from his interview with NOVA. And because I mentioned it, I'm already spoiling my story here. Sorry for anyone who was held in utmost suspense by my awesome prelude._

… _Don't you dare take that last line seriously. -.-;_

_You know, I wasn't planning on working on this story for a while, but the plot bunny bit my ankles and wouldn't let me sleep tonight until I tossed up a prologue, as un-beta-read as it is. Nerk. _Pretty Please_ tell me what you think of it. X3  
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	2. Chapter 1: Wrong

_Warnings: anime spoilers, plenty of language, later violence and lots of angst._

_Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Hiroaki Arakawa and all companies that hold license to its title. Characters picked on and plots shamelessly twisted without permission, but sadly, I don't make money off of my stupid plot bunnies._

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**Chapter 1: Wrong**

_I never did enjoy history, despite Izumi-sensei's insistence on studying world history. Since I had no records from my own world, I had nothing to rely on but my mind. It was a gamble, but I'd hoped it would be a worthwhile one. After I'd checked my calculations, I spent nearly a week or so pouring over old records, trying to find pieces of the past that coincided with what I remembered of the history of my home world. _

_I found approximately thirty-five key divergence points; key events that enabled my universe and the one I currently resided in to split and evolve into their current forms. Of course I knew there would be others, and that I ran a great risk of choosing the wrong variables. I only hoped that somehow I could hijack the Gate's universe-jumping powers and use those to find my way home._

_Only… I didn't realize that historical events alone would not be enough to get me back to where I wanted to be. However, it didn't help that my current residence was governed by a suspicious government that didn't want anything to do with my sort of research._

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"You must have gone _insane_." The last word escaped the elderly physicist's lips as a disgusted hiss, his hooded eyes opened wide with disbelief and teeth gritted in furious surprise. "I would expect this from the government-controlled scientists, but I know you're a freelancer, Elric. I wouldn't have trained you in any other way." He waved a worn page angrily in the air before letting it float back down to the table. The page was coated on both sides with penciled notes and markings in the younger man's handwriting. "This… _this is impossible_. Don't you get it, boy? There _is_ no 'other side' to this universe! What you've told me about has to be from dreams. Quantum physics… Hah! It's just not possible." 

Edward snorted derisively. "Believe what you will, Doc, but I'm not changing my mind. If there is any chance that—"

"There _is no chance_ of _anything _when it's not physically feasible!" Doc – who refused to be called by any other name – spat back, pounding his fist on the paper and causing Edward to flinch impulsively. "I won't have anything to do with this heretic black magic, and I'm damn sure I don't want my former student dabbling in this sort of preposterous behavior. If the government catches wind of this…"

Ed sighed; he wasn't getting anywhere, and a pounding headache wasn't helping his frustration at all. He really needed the professor's help in order to make it work; there needed to be someone left behind to guide the machine properly. Hohenheim was _not_ allowed to do it, end of the question.

"Look, Doc… I'm well aware of the dangers of this research, and I will _not_ allow some insane government lab to pick up on my hard work and destroy it," Ed replied with a sigh. "Trust me, I'm a little too knowledgeable when it comes to keeping the government's nose out of my business. Please, you've got to help me with this; it could be my last chance to find my way back h—…" The final word choked and died in his throat, prohibiting him to say it aloud as if it were some sort of bad omen.

_Home._

Ed buried his face in his good hand, trying to hide the hot tears that sprang up in his eyes. Doc's expression softened; he wasn't a cold-hearted man by any means, but he was concerned that Ed's burning desire to return to whatever world he came from – God only knew how he got here – would cause him to act irrationally. With a relenting grunt, he stiffly rose to his feet and strode over to stare out the only small window letting natural light pour into the study. Silence dominated the conversation for a few short moments, just long enough for Ed to reign in his emotions.

"How long would it take you to build this cockamamie… _contraption _of yours?" Doc asked quietly.

Ed looked back up at him with wide eyes, and then back at his hands with a rueful smile. "It's already half-built, Doc. I—I haven't stopped working on it since I checked over my numbers a week and a half ago…"

"_A week and a half?_" the elderly physicist exclaimed. "And it's already half-built? God, boy, you're a machine! I've never heard of that kind of build-work done in such a short amount of time!"

"I…" Ed looked sheepishly at his hands. "I haven't slept, really."

"Then it's no wonder you look so damn tired! You stupid boy, get some rest – you've waited three years to find this kind of an answer, so I think you can wait another week or so until you see it fulfilled." Even as Ed opened his mouth to protest, the professor added, "Besides, you don't want to make any mistakes because you're tired. Go sleep; I will look in on your current work if it'll make you feel better."

Ed nodded slowly, as if hesitantly agreeing. Once Doc wrested the information of the project's whereabouts from the young man, he shooed Ed from the study to find a more suitable resting spot while he went to investigate this 'cockamamie contraption.'

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Edward slept the remainder of the day, and all that night as well. Doc felt a pang of pity for the boy as he watched him sleep, but after seeing what kind of machinery that the boy had engineered in such a small amount of time, he was duly impressed – and at the same time completely horrified – with Ed's ingenuity. He could barely figure out the machine himself, and he'd been the one to train Edward in his current field. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could find any mistakes, since he didn't quite understand the hardware the boy used. All these dates and random events made very little sense to him, though the theory – which he'd gone through, at least three times – was perfect. The mathematical proof was there, but it lacked solid physical evidence… which the machine would provide. 

Hopefully.

While the theory itself was perfect, a million doubtful questions flooded the physicist's thoughts as he waited for Elric to awaken so he could vent some of the mental pressure to him. Surely the boy would have thought through every possible scenario; he would be a failure as a teacher and mentor if his student didn't know better than to do at least that much.

For now, it was important that the shaky German government didn't learn anything about their research, since Elric didn't seem to fit the role of government dog… even though the boy did have some uncanny ability to deal with his authorities so tactfully, as if he'd had a lot of prior experience on the matter. But no matter; Elric had his secrets, as did the Professor. It wasn't in his personality to pry too far.

Though he wanted Edward to get rest, he also hoped that the boy would awaken soon. He had a sinking feeling that time really wasn't on their side, as much as he desired to have an infinite amount of space to work with.

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"The hell—? How the _fuck_ did they get a hold of that paper?" Edward exploded at the professor. The elderly man calmly met his gaze without so much as a flinch. He knew he was being accused, but he held himself confidently, perhaps in innocence. "The only people who know about this project were you, me, and… Oh god." 

_Hohenheim._ It hadn't been spoken, but both seemed to hear it. Ed shakily rose his hands to his face, pressing his fingertips into his eyes.

"You don't know that for sure," Doc said in an attempt to give Ed some shred of hope. "I'm sure he wasn't the _only_ other person who knew something about it…"

"That damn old man doesn't _want_ me to go home!" roared Ed. "God, he doesn't realize how much he's screwed up my life, and he doesn't want to let me even try to pick up the pieces he left. He's so _goddamned selfish_!" The small rant was followed by an equally angry growl as the young man paced angrily by the study's only window.

The elderly physicist sighed, having a small thought that perhaps the librarian had something to do with it – maybe Elric had misplaced a page of his research in the library at some point. Highly likely, considering the boy had stubbornly refused to get a good night's rest for nearly two weeks and was understandably exhausted. He easily could have forgotten pieces of his hard-earned research notes.

"At this point, Elric, it's too late to try to point fingers at who might've tipped the government off," Doc tried again. "They're probably on their way over here right now, and God knows what kind of punishment they'll give us."

Ed snorted, but nodded anyway. "Damn. We'd better head over to the warehouse before they get there, huh…"

"I hope you're ready to leave, because you certainly aren't coming back once you step in that machine. We didn't have time to finish the retrieval feature…"

"Doesn't matter. Even if I could come back here, it's not worth it to me now with the government breathing down my back and no family to speak of – current company excepted, of course," Ed noted with an attempted smile.

Doc half-smiled in return, but turned to look out the window nervously. "Really, son, you should get going. It wouldn't be worth losing all that research to have them catch you because you're being sentimental."

Ed's smile became genuine, and he bowed his head slightly in agreement. "Ready?"

"When you are."

* * *

_At least I wasn't stupid. I knew we were – rather, I was – in serious trouble with the government. They were afraid, I think. Afraid we'd get them in trouble with the Allied powers and destroy the shaky peace that barely existed between battle-torn Germany and the victors of what was a truly hellish war. Perhaps the Allies would be afraid that we could find a way to go back in time and change the outcome of the war. They obviously didn't know me well enough to realize that of all the things I am, selfish ranks pretty high on my list. They also didn't know how much I hate war, and that I simply want to find my way home. Well, not so much 'simply' as earnestly, and in my desperation to keep my promise to my brother I would do almost anything._

_I was playing with fire, and I knew it. I just didn't care._

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Doc and Edward hardly had time to punch in the dated variables into the machine's database when the doors of the warehouse were literally kicked in. A bright spotlight blinded both physicists and bathed them in bright white light as rapid German orders were hurled through the air like rocks from an angry child. Ed noted wryly how similar German was to his own native tongue; perhaps that was why he had little trouble picking it up when he'd been transported across the Gate. 

"_Put your hands in the air!"_

"_Don't move, or we'll shoot!"_

"_Which one of you is Edward Elric?"_

"_On your knees!"_

_What would I give to use alchemy in this world... _Ed found himself wishing.

Doc slowly turned, hands in the air as ordered, and knelt down between Edward and the German police. Edward began to do the same, but his mentor shot him a glare.

"Elric, _go!_" Doc hissed. "This is your last chance; don't waste it!"

Ed scowled. "What about you?" he whispered back angrily. "I'm not going to let you sit here and become target practice for these government dogs!"

With a cynical smirk, Doc replied evenly, "I'll be fine. You get your ass in that machine and let me do my part. We spent too damn long on this thing to let it go to waste now!"

"_Stay where you are!"_

"_God_, just _go_, you small idiot!"

Ed flinched and angrily whirled on the old man with a sullen glare. "_Who are you calling so small that germs outsize me?_"

Doc laughed. "Go, damn you! I'll cover your short ass."

Sobering quickly, Ed frowned, but seemed ready to comply anyway. "I still don't like this idea… so remember that this was all your fault, you old fool."

With that, the golden-haired boy jumped to his feet and sprinted towards a small metal door providing the sole entrance to a large, cage-like metal room. Gunshots and loud shouts rang out behind him, ricocheting off the metal in the warehouse, creating such a loud racket that Edward's ears rang sharply and ignited another debilitating headache, much like the one that caused passed out after finding the key formula. Crying out, Ed clutched his head and fell to his knees just shy of the metal door.

"Edward!" an all-too-familiar voice called in concern.

_D-Damn it, old man… you bastard traitor. _

"Stop shooting, damn you!" Hohenheim shouted at the line of firing police. "He's unarmed; you've already killed one unarmed man tonight! There's no need for you to stain your hands further with innocent blood."

Edward chanced a blurred glance over at where the doctor had been kneeling, only to find that he had been killed. With a grimace and a sharp gasp, he tried to focus past his throbbing skull to find a way to get into his machine and go the hell home. The firing stopped momentarily as Hohenheim tried to stand between the line of fire and his son.

"We're on orders to arrest the boy and his mentor, and we were instructed to kill them if they resisted," one police man snapped. "Get out of the way, or you too will be charged with aiding the suspect."

"Edward, can you stand?" Hohenheim whispered, seemingly ignoring the policeman's threat.

Ed grunted. "You bastard, why are you here?"

"Just get up and do as I tell you. You've got to get into that door and lock it so I can start it up without having to worry about your safety."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Damn it, stop being so stubborn! Get in that room!"

Ed jumped at the flare of anger in his father's eyes; he'd never seen that kind of a look from the man before, and he was sure he didn't want to see it again. Nodding uncertainly, he pushed himself to his feet and drunkenly staggered towards the door. Hohenheim ran towards the control panel and began to flip switches. The policemen shouted at him and told him to surrender, but when he clearly wasn't going to listen, they began shooting again. The machine flared to life, emitting a whine that increased in pitch as it warmed up. When Ed reached the metal door, he suddenly found himself falling forward into the room, pain flaring in his left shoulder. A second sharp pain stole his right leg from beneath him, and he toppled into the dark, metal cage-room with a strangled cry.

"Edward!"

"Just do it, damn old man!" Ed snarled through gritted teeth, unable to stand in order to get the door shut.

Hohenheim brutally pulled the final power switch down as it sparked in his hands. He suddenly cried out and fell to his knees as a bullet struck his back, and as brilliantly bright blue light filled the warehouse and enveloped the metal cage, Ed caught sight of his father smiling at him with tears in his eyes, holding a bloodied hand out towards his son in farewell.

"_Father!"_

* * *

The late summer's sun shone brightly and bathed the farmlands of Rizenbul in a pleasant warm glow. Ron Smithy wiped beads of sweat from his brow with his grimy glove-covered wrist and smiled up at the sky, enjoying his daily work in his fields. He'd been born and raised in a busy city, where he'd met his now wife Chelsea during college. After they'd married, her parents had asked him to come live with them on their Rizenbul farm and help work the land and act as the son they'd never had. Once his wife assured him it was what she also wanted, he happily moved to live with his in-laws, and found that he loved the peace and quiet of a small farming town. 

He continued coaxing the bridled mare next to him to keep moving forward, dragging a heavy metal plow through the smooth soil beneath his feet. This field had not carried a crop the past season to allow the soil to replenish its nutrients, so this season they would rotate the crops to ensure that they had healthy soil to flourish in.

Whistling as he worked, Ron merrily patted the mare – Lilly – every so often, letting her know that he was content and that she was doing a good job. Lilly usually didn't seem to mind the reassuring contact, but this time she suddenly reared, nickering and skittishly trying to move backwards, away from the far edge of the field. Ron frowned as he grabbed her reigns, talking to her quietly and trying to soothe the horse's nerves. Scanning the field to try to see what spooked the gentle-mannered mare, his eyes fell upon a shadowed lump at the edge of the field; he swore to himself that it hadn't been there earlier. Ron quickly unhitched the plow and led Lilly to a fence post to tie down before he cautiously wandered over to investigate.

Ron Smithy was very surprised, then, to find the body of a very oddly-clothed, golden-blonde young man on his field. Since Ron couldn't see any movement, he assumed that the poor soul was dead… but when he reached down to try to haul the body to a more suitable resting place, he jumped and dropped the boy when he heard a low, pained moan. Immediately, Ron's eyes widened with concern – was the boy hurt? Sick? How did he get here? Ron rolled the boy onto his back and noticed that there were a few signs of blood on the young man's clothes.

"Hey, are you alright?" Ron asked quietly, giving the boy's non-bloodied shoulder a gentle shake. He was surprised to find that the arm was a prosthetic, but not like what he had seen the Rockbell family affix to people. "Boy? You okay?"

Eyelids fluttered open to reveal intense eyes of smoldering gold, hazy with disorientation and distant pain. The light seemed to hurt the boy's eyes as he held up the prosthetic hand to shield out the sun's rays.

"W-Where is this?" the young man suddenly asked, the rich voice hoarse.

"Rizenbul, a small farming town. Listen, I think I'm going to have to take you to a doctor…" Ron began, but the young man's eyes suddenly widened and he quickly sat up. Too quickly – he ended up pulling his face into his hands to fight away an apparent dizzy spell.

"What year?" came the next murmured question from the mysterious boy.

"What?" Ron asked, surprised by the question.

"W-What year is this?"

Ron lifted a brow. "Continental year 1909, late August. Is something the matter?"

The young man suddenly looked up, an almost-unreadable expression on his face. Ron saw traces of fear, victory, sadness… and something else he couldn't quite figure out. The young man winced, grunting in pain as he clutched his head in his hands just before he fainted dead away, no matter how fervently Ron tried to talk the boy back from the darkness.

* * *

_1909. It turned out that I'd arrived back in my own hometown just after my mother's death, and just after my former youthful person had left the area with his – my – brother to train in the alchemic methods. We'd done it to try to revive our mother, our pillar of support and bastion of love. The moment I realized that I'd been presented with a chance that could completely change my own life… I'm ashamed to say that I didn't hesitate to take that chance._

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_**.end chapter 1.**_

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_This chapter took me a while to finally get out. I wrote it in bits and pieces as ideas came, but I got on a roll tonight and finished it up. It hasn't yet been edited, though I do plan to run it through the wringer in the near future. It'll be far more fleshed out, hopefully a lot less rushed, and much more polished. For now, it gets the job done: keeping me working on this story so that I don't lose the plot bunny!_

_ If any of you readers happen to be good in physics and see a great deal of error in this story, please do let me know! I've never taken a physics course in my life, though I have done some outside research on time traveling theory. I'm a history/political science major, not a science guru... XD  
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_Thank you to those who commented on the prelude. Sorry for the wait that will have to come after this chapter; school really owns my soul for the time being. X3 I hope that this chapter – as messy as it is for now – isn't too much of a disappointment._

_Oh, and since it's late, I'll reply to the reviews individually later. For now, I just want to post this darned thing and get some sleep. XP_

_Remember, comments are love! Let me know what you think!_


	3. Chapter 2: Speculation

_Warnings: anime spoilers, plenty of language, violence and lots of angst._

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_Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Hiroaki Arakawa and all companies that hold license to its title. Characters picked on and plots shamelessly twisted without permission, but sadly, I don't make money off of my stupid plot bunnies._

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**Chapter 2: Speculation**

He couldn't see. Somehow, however, he knew exactly where he was, and what he was doing, as if his mind had a method of projecting the world – if he could call it that – around him onto the backs of his eyelids. Unless his eyes were open. He couldn't tell. At any rate, he was fighting again, trying to pull away from the greedy hands, hands had no bodies attached to them as they grabbed for his remaining limbs in their everlasting search for embodiment. The feather-light touches stung like fire and presented their own form of torture even as he evaded the grasp of the wiggling fingers.

Images raced across his vision, battling for dominance in the motion picture of his mind, striking any number of different chords within his very core. Many of these snapshots were from his past, reminding him of what he once had, and could never have again. A stable family, with brother, mother, and… even that old bastard managed to find his way into the projection, a content glow upon his uncharacteristically pleased visage. This brought a conflicting mixture of pleased nostalgia and rage, joy and remorse. His brother's body whole brought further regret along with a glimmer of hope as they played together in green fields, green grass tickling at their backs as they lay with broad smiles and stared into the sky, wondering what was beyond it.

And then the hands would snatch away the images, squealing in delight as they realized how close they were to finding human flesh.

A suit of armor, hiding kittens inside its empty hollow, speaking with his brother's voice and emotion, attacking him in a sparring match. The armor would inevitably win, and he would growl in frustration as he cursed his human body's limits. Offended, the armor turned angry, and for some time he felt the overwhelming weight of guilt perched heavily upon his shoulders. Even without emotion in the metallic face, the actions and intonations of the voice became clear indicators of his brother's moods, as if he could actually see his brother's face as he spoke through the vessel that contained his only link to the living world – a blood seal, born from determination and a brother's love.

Then that too disappeared, pulled away with appalling shrieks that made his stomach roil. He wanted to stop the hands, and make them give back the images, but he couldn't speak.

Black streaks, in a horrifying and familiar pattern, covered the armor, which now glowed red from the sheer power the markings brought to the planet's surface. He was helpless without his one and only talent that would allow him to bring his brother's full body back, but not yet. A baby cried in the background, and he was fighting again. This time it was a losing battle, and even though he found himself with the upper hand for a brief moment, it was lost in a brilliant wash of agony and the horrendous taste and scent of blood.

Fire, explosions, and an unfamiliar setting, a heavy, lethal weight fell upon his shoulders and back and sent him home to find that the suit of armor was gone, and he was whole. But that wasn't what he'd wanted, and so he tried once more to make ends meet.

Then there was no more, as the hands grabbed up the rest of the pieces before he could place them together. _Stop it!_ he wanted to yell. _Give those back!_

High-pitched cackling replied. _You must present us with something of equal value, or you will lose everything that is precious to you._

_I don't have anything left_, he would say, but somehow he knew they were smiling at him, with burning eyes and broad, grinning mouths that lingered beyond the darkness.

_Then give us your soul, Edward Elric._

The darkness spread to all senses, and he was lost.

* * *

"_Ronald… but I'm… doctor…"_

"_He won't… bleeding… we need… I… fever… don't know what…"_

For the time being, Edward was content allowing the hazy feeling in his brain take control for a while. Despite the murmurs and distant voices he couldn't quite make out, he felt blissfully unaware of the world around him. He hadn't slept well in quite some time, so he figured that now was as good a time as any to catch up on rest.

That is, until a blunt object pressed into his left shoulder.

Bright white flashed across the back of his eyelids, and he could've sworn he heard himself scream. The pain was nearly unbearable as fire coursed along his veins around the wound. There was sudden pressure on both his arms and legs, and through the haze he could hear distant shouting. Everything sounded as though it was underwater, and his entire being ached as something probed into the wound in his shoulder.

"_Wait! You're… he's in… should fetch… instead."_

_It hurts, it hurts!_

"_Edward!"_

He tried to follow the voice when it called his name – he really did – but extreme pain washed over him and swallowed him whole, sending him back to the dream world that existed only in his mind. There, he hoped he could hide from the agony long enough for it to pass.

* * *

Standing on tiptoes on a small, wobbly stepstool, Pinako peered down at the sleeping young man with a deep frown in her wizened forehead. When she had been called to assist a wounded young man found in the Smithy's fields, she had most definitely not expected to see someone who looked almost exactly like the older of the two Elric brothers. She heard last that Edward was away with his brother, training in the art of alchemy under a strict woman named Izumi. 

She had so many questions that she wanted the strange young blonde man to answer, the least of them being, 'What the _hell_ happened?' From her current patient's pained cries, Pinako could tell that although his voice was deeper than Edward's, it still held the same pitch. This boy also looked older – a lot older – and his hair was far longer than Ed's should have been.

Her questions would have to wait, however. The boy was running a persistent fever, and he was sure to be anemic from blood loss. Dark circles framed the closed eyes, as if he had exhausted himself on a goal, as the Edward she knew often did, too.

"That stupid beansprout," she muttered quietly as she replaced the cloth on her patient's forehead and adjusted the blankets, tucking the edge under his chin gently.

"Who're you calling a beansprout?" The soft, masculine voice startled Pinako; she jumped. It was then she noticed the glassy golden peering from behind slit eyelids, and the gentle smile tugging at the corners of the boy's lips.

"Ah, you're awake!" she exclaimed. "I was starting to get worried, young man."

Her patient's smile waned ever so slightly as he grunted in reply. Pinako sighed, turning briefly to pick up a water pitcher behind her so she could fill a glass of it for him. With a grimace, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning his head back against the headboard as he did so. The blanket bunched at his lap, and he shivered as the air came in contact with his sweaty skin. He really did look a lot like an older version of Edward.

"How are you feeling?" Pinako asked, placing her head against his forehead as soon as he took the cup from her in shaking hands.

"Better, I think," he said uncertainly. "This isn't your home."

It wasn't a question, and it took Pinako by surprise; did the boy know her? She tried to cover her reaction with a nodded reply. "This is Ron Smithy's home. You were found passed out in his fields. He's fairly new to Rizenbul, moved here a few months ago with his wife."

The boy's mouth formed a small "o," and he shifted uncomfortably with a guilty glint in his eyes.

"By the way, how did you know? I don't believe I've met you before," Pinako said suspiciously.

The boy couldn't suppress the flinch at the question. She turned an eyebrow up at his response, and he fidgeted slightly under her intense stare.

"I – ah, I'm not sure," he replied nervously. "Just instinct. You don't seem to be completely at ease here."

Pinako frowned. He had to be lying, but she wasn't sure how just yet. "What is your name?"

The boy looked away, swallowed, and seemed to think for a moment before he hung his head in shame. "I – I… d-don't know."

This whole conversation was becoming rather strange, she decided. "Hm. Perhaps you took a hit to the head as well?" The boy merely shrugged, and she sighed. "Well, no use in turning you out, not in your condition. I hope you don't mind if we move you to my place; I think you've given the poor Smithy family enough of a scare for now, don't you—"

"_Edward!_"

A high-pitched feminine voice floated through the door, announcing the presence of its owner just shortly before she entered the room. Much to Pinako's surprise, the boy's expression first brightened with glad recognition, but the look lasted only a moment until his eyes widened, color draining from his already pale face. He paused a moment, lips moving in wordlessly – Pinako fervently wished she knew what he was thinking – until his voice finally came out in a stuttered whisper.

"W-Winry?"

* * *

_Sometimes, I absolutely hate lying. I don't mind if I omit a few truths when speaking with politicians or enemies, but to the people I care about… I wouldn't lie to them unless I felt I had to. That was one of those situations. I remember that when I woke up, I was so ready to be home that I hadn't even thought about the fact that I was significantly older than when they'd last seen me, not until that girl showed up and reminded me just how old I was. I had to come up with some means of explaining my existence – somehow that I was Edward Elric, and at the same time I wasn't really the Edward Elric that they knew._

_I hate to admit, that at first her name didn't come to mind, though I knew everything else about her. At the time, I thought nothing of it. After all, I'd just come _home_; well, in terms of the town, at least. My home was still intact, if I recalled correctly. I'd been wounded and was tired, and I hadn't seen this part of my adoptive family in years._

_I would realize the real problem later, when it was far too late to do much about it._

* * *

"W-Winry?" How could he have forgotten about her? When her bright, cherubic, blonde-framed face appeared in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. 

_Oh god._

"Who _are _you?" he heard Pinako whisper in shock.

Winry was only ten years old, just like Ed had been at that time in his own life. And he had just given away the fact that he did indeed know who they were.

At first, Winry didn't seem to notice the fact that Ed had seemingly miraculously aged a good eight years by then. When she caught sight of the bandages – and the strange prosthetics – she couldn't seem to tell if she wanted to be angry or worried, as a mixture of both was written across her young face. "I was so worried! I came over as soon as Granny let me! What on earth happened to you?"

… _Oh god._

His hands were shaking furiously now, and he couldn't seem to find anything to say to her, couldn't stop staring at her with wide eyes. Briefly, he recalled a theory he'd come across while researching about the potential for universal destruction if a time traveler somehow managed to alter his own history.

"Ed…?"

The air seemed to thin out in the room; Ed suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe in enough of it as his heart pounded painfully in his chest, blood rushing at a deafening speed in his ears. Heat rose up to his face, and the room whirled as sharp pain pierced his skull. With a muffled cry, he clutched his aching head in his hands and leaned forward, the world blackening around him even as he heard the surprised shouts of both his current companions.

_Wh-What the hell?_

* * *

_Come to think of it, the headaches started when I'd first stumbled upon the right path towards my way home, back while I was in Germany. At first I thought it was from the lack of sleep, but those damn migraines would come without a moment's notice, and debilitated me until they passed. At first they were mild, but the longer I spent in my own time – with my own past – they only became increasingly worse._

_But like everyone else around me, at first I thought that perhaps I was just dealing with a lot of trauma in the form of these awful migraines, and that they would pass in time._

* * *

Ed woke in a dark room, which he recognized was part of the Rockbell's home. They must have moved him while he was unconscious, and either it was evening now or they had pulled the curtains closed. At any rate, he was alone, and his headache had lessened to a dull, bearable throb, only bothering him some when he sat up. With slow movements, he moved his legs over the side of the bed and tested putting weight on his injured leg; was pleased to see it hold with only a light twinge. The movement made his head swim a little, but once he'd regained his equilibrium in an upright position, he hesitantly made his way across the room to check out the window. The bright light outside hurt his sensitive eyes, but at least he knew it was still daytime. 

Moving generally hurt, since his body was sore with fatigue and injury, so he moved slowly as though he had aged far more than three years since he'd last been in his own world. Perhaps he was old; at this point, he didn't care, as all he wanted to do was to rest a little more before he had to face the world again.

_Oh shit._ And then he remembered; Pinako's hoarse whisper – _"Who are you?"_ – and Winry's bright blue eyes shining with that strange mixture of hurt and worry just before the headache had swept him back into darkness. He must have scared Pinako and worried Winry, but he honestly hadn't thought about how he would react if he did see the people who were important to him. The first thing that had come to mind was to lie.

As he gingerly sat down on the overstuffed couch near the window, he wondered briefly what it would be like to run across his younger self, and then realized that he had a huge problem on his hands. Somehow, he had to come up with a flawless explanation – no, many flawless explanations. They must have a ton of questions as to how he got there, why he looked, sounded, and acted so much like an older version of the ten-year-old Edward Elric they knew, and how in the _hell_ he ended up back on this side of the Gate.

His original plan of saying that he was simply a traveler was completely out of the question, now that he had acknowledged the fact that he did know both Winry and Pinako. God, he felt stupid. Now he'd have to explain why he lied as well, and the truth would only bring more questions he was fairly certain he didn't want to answer.

Footsteps approaching his room caught his attention, just before the door quietly creaked open.

"H-Hello? Are you awake?"

It was Winry, he realized with a sigh. "I'm over on the couch. You don't have to whisper," he said gently.

She gasped as though caught doing something she shouldn't, and she turned to the couch to find him looking back at her with a small smile. Taking a hesitant step into the room, she waited for him to nod before she approached him slowly.

"I-I'm sorry… I didn't realize how loud I was being, and with you injured and all—"

_Ah, so that's what this is about._ "No, it wasn't you. I've been having migraine problems for a while, that's all," he reassured her. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Winry shook her head. "I really am sorry."

"I know," Ed replied. "Would you like to sit down?"

Suddenly, Winry looked at him accusingly, hesitating with open mouth only a moment before she asked, "Wait… why are you out of bed?"

Ed shrugged sheepishly, glancing back at the bed a moment before he said, "I needed to move a bit. Just had to make sure my body still worked, you know?"

She smiled a little and nodded, and then proceeded to regard him appraisingly. "You look a lot like someone else I know, but older," she noted with the blunt honest ease of the young. "He recently… left, and hasn't been gone all that long, either."

"I know," he replied quietly. He knew these questions would arise at some point, but he still wasn't quite sure how to address them just yet. "His name is Edward, right?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "How…?"

Ed couldn't suppress a small chuckle at the question. "Let's just say that I am well-acquainted with that friend of yours."

"Is that how you know my name?"

He managed to avoid looking surprised at the question – he shouldn't be, though – and answered evenly, "It is."

She looked a little confused, but accepted the answer with a small nod anyway. "What happened to your arm and leg? You know Granny and I could give you automail… Those limbs you have aren't as strong as automail would be."

_Always the saleswoman,_ he noted amusedly. "I… uh… made a big mistake, and it cost me an arm and a leg – literally," he joked with a wink, and she couldn't hide a giggle. "But seriously, I used to have automail. It broke, though, and I wasn't in a place where I could get more, or I would have."

"Well, then, you didn't get very high-quality automail if it broke so easily," she said airily. He had to hide his laugh.

"No, it was very well-made," he said. "I was doing things with it that I shouldn't have. It was my own fault that it broke, not the makers'."

She looked him directly in the eye then, apparently trying to figure something out for herself, but not quite able to understand what it was she was looking for. Ed started to get a bit fidgety after a moment, nervous under the serious stare of a ten-year-old girl who would grow up to be one heck of a woman. _Looks like she got an early start on that._

"You… really don't seem like Ed," she said after a moment. "You look and sound like him, but you don't act like him."

Ed was a bit taken aback by her analysis, so it took him a moment to gather his thoughts enough to reply. "Is that so? I suppose I wouldn't be much like him."

He resisted the urge to sigh in relief when she rocked back on her heels, and seemed to accept his answer for the time being. With a sigh, she said, "Granny said that we wouldn't be able to give you automail now anyway; even if you're older than Ed, you're still too young, and you still aren't quite all better yet."

Ed had to laugh; he was almost nineteen, and had had the original automail surgery when he was only eleven. His younger self was only a mere matter of months away from getting affixed with the artificial limbs as it was, if this timeline stayed intact. A sudden thought hit him then.

"What's so funny?" Winry asked after a moment.

"Nothing," Ed said, immediately erasing the laughter from his voice. "I'll tell you later. Could you do me a small favor, though? I could use a pen and some paper right about now…"

Winry brightened at the idea of being helpful, and she nodded as she stood. Ed thanked her as she left the room, and he immediately began doing calculations in his mind.

_This is risky,_ the rational half of his mind told him. _You know, by now the universe should have exploded several times over. You're asking for it if you're going to mess with your own timeline._

_Oh shut up, _the other, impulsive side of his thoughts snapped. _If there's even the slightest chance that I could keep _that _from happening again… I think it just might be worth trying._

_You're messing with fire._

_You're ruining my train of thought._

Winry returned with the promised supplies and some tea, and then seemed to be frightened enough by Ed's expression that she quickly set them down on the table and left. At least she had the instinct to know that he was nearly unapproachable in this state. Now he could focus on what his hands were subconsciously drawing out for him – his own timeline, in as much detail as he could remember.

_Now if I met my former self at this stage, then… what kind of a reaction would that cause here? And here?_

And so he spent the rest of that afternoon – and most of the night, much to Pinako's chagrin – tracing a long, weaving spiderweb of calculations and potential outcomes. He had to come up with a plan first, and if he didn't first unravel the makings of the universe by encountering his former self, he hoped it would work. Theoretically, it would… but knowing his line of luck as it were, he couldn't afford to take any chances.

_Al, I hope you forgive me for this._

* * *

_**.end chapter 2.**_

* * *

_Trying to make this chapter work plot-wise gave _me _a headache. Sympathy pains for Ed? Perhaps. XD _

_I'm sorry this took forever to write and post – I haven't forgotten this story at all! I ended up writing most of it in a fevered frenzy (literally; I had a _really _high fever), and even after I read back through it, I'm not quite sure I caught all the nit-picky errors or plot holes just yet. Please forgive me if I've made a horrendous number of mistakes. Ah, and there might be a "sequel" or parallel story popping up to this, if I go along with a really twisted plot bunny that deals with this same premise... We shall see.  
_

_For now, let's just hope that the universe doesn't explode in the next chapter._

_Comments are always much appreciated!_

_EDIT: I fixed it, Vare! XD Thank you for pointing that out. -should really get a beta reader-  
Edit 2: Thanks Bakageta, got that one too! -hangs head in shame- X3  
_


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